Gleepover
by E.C. O'ringer
Summary: New Directions is on their way to Nationals! Or, at least, they were. Find out about all the antics that are sure to ensue during the night at the airport !
1. Chapter 1

"Alright, guys! Who's ready for Nationals?" Mr. Schue's voice rang out through the crowded airport terminal. We shrieked our assent. At the glare of a security guard, our diverse group quieted down. New Directions had just arrived at the designated loading area, but the plane had yet to come. We all settled down in the oddly-shaped plastic chairs to wait.

Rachel flounced up. "I think we really have a shot, don't you, Finn? Of course you do! Confidence is one of the main necessities for being a star. Once, when I was in my kindergarden play, I was the lead, obviously, but I..." At this point, I managed to tune out what I could see was becoming another diva rant. That's is a talent I developed after about an hour of dating Rachel. She's great, but can get annoying. I decided to see what the others were doing by using the clever excuse of the bathroom.

Upon returning, I saw that Rachel had struck up a conversation with Kurt in my absence. Mercedes, having lost her partner in crime to my overly-cheery girlfriend, was plugged into her iPod. She sang along under her breath, and clearly wasn't interested in socializing. Tina and Artie were engrossed in a conversation about the best superhero. They had narrowed it down to Spiderman, WonderWoman (that was Tina's input), or Wheelchairicus (which is some hero from a comic only Artie has ever heard of). My vote was on Spiderman, but that wouldn't help their argument at all, so I moved on.

Brittany, Santana, and Quinn were all chatting in a little sorority-looking circle. From the few whispers I heard, It was about makeup, abs, or both. I wasn't interested. Puck, Mike, and Matt were close by, in a similar circle on the floor. They were talking about the Cheerios getting shorter skirts. After a comment by Puck, which was something along the lines of, "I don't think they should wear skirts at all," Quinn smacked him and muttered something about not wanting to be knocked up again. I decided to stay out of this one.

Having run out of people to stalk, I went over to see what Mr. Schue was doing. Even from afar, I could see he was attempting to flirt with Ms. Pillsbury. She was barely acknowledging his efforts, as she was sanitizing her chair furiously. I didn't really want to interrupt, so I went back to my seat and played on my PS3. I'd wanted to save the batteries for the plane, but whatever.

But before I knew it, my game shut off, totally dead. My PS3 was old, but it still held a good two hours. I looked at the clock and sighed. It had lasted two hours. So where was the plane?

As if reading my thoughts, the speaker system sounded from above our heads.

"Flight 2673, your flight has been canceled due to weather conditions. Please see our flight planner to..."

The rest of the message was drowned out in groans. That was our flight.


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Schue grimaced as he got up and walked over to the counter where a crowd of angry passengers was gathering. I would hate to be the flight planner right now, with all the upset people. One man said (or, rather, screamed) that he needed to be in Washington D.C. by six the next morning for his daughter's wedding. Considering right now it was eight at night in Ohio, and this small-town airport closed down at nine, he wasn't going anywhere.

I spotted Mr. Schue at the front of the line. He was fairly calm, considering the situation, but the flight planner was in tears. After a few minutes, Mr. Schue came back carrying a barrel of ratty, old sleeping bags. He shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, everyone. But with this airline's budget, and with our budget, we're going to have to spend the night here."

This was followed by a series of dramatic groans and sighs. "We won't be late for Nationals, right, Mr. Schue? That would throw off the whole dynamic of the performance..."

Mr. Schue smiled despite himself. "There will be plenty of time. Nationals isn't till tomorrow night." Rachel pouted, but didn't respond. Mr. Schue turned to address the group. "Alright guys, get something to eat before the food court closes. And call your parents while you're at it, they should know what's going on."

With a few grunts of assent, the glee club rose and, in a flurry of movement, took out their phones. After many 'No, Mom's and 'I'm fine, really's had taken place, we all paraded down to the food court. It probably looked pretty funny to the passerby: A kid in a wheelchair was leading, followed closely by a goth Asian girl. A small brunette boy was combing his hair while he walked, and was, at the same time, talking to a grumpy-looking, sturdy, black girl. A girl dressed like a kindergarden teacher buzzed about the group (This is my best try at describing Rachel's frantic nature). A legion of three cheerleaders came next, all with identical "I'm-So-Over-This-Airport-Thing" looks on their faces. Four manly jock types trailed in the back (Puck, Mike, Matt, and me).

A year ago, this would have bothered me. I could feel the eyes of the airport search our club and try (unsuccessfully) to figure out why such different teens were in a group together. But I'd rather be seen as weird with my friends than cool by myself.

We reached the food court and pooled our money to buy everyone pizza. Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury had gone to a different place, because pizza had lactose. Which I'm pretty sure is milk.

As for polite dinner conversation, well...

"Mn dfn wmma sny hrm," Puck said around a large mouthful of food.

Quinn glared at him. "You aren't a chipmunk, for god's sake. Swallow, _then_ talk." She swatted him on the back, causing him to choke slightly.

"Mnn... I said, I don't want to stay here."

"And you think we do? Noah, none of us are happy about it, but the show must go on!" Rachel interjected, "Besides, at least we have sleeping bags." Although Rachel's comment was cheery enough, her tone suggested she was convincing herself as much as she was us.

"No, Rachel, sleeping bags will _not_ help my cause. I checked my luggage. Tomorrow, I will have to wear the same thing that I am wearing today. And I am just _not_ cool with that." I actually surprised that didn't come earlier. In fact, that was the first thing I'd expected to hear out of Kurt's mouth once the flight was canceled.

Mercades patted Kurt's back. "I _so_ feel your pain Kurt. Come on, let's buy smoothies to take our mind off the injustice. We deserve them." With a secret handshake the two of them left.

Puck, Quinn, and Rachel began arguing once again about the level of sucking this was. On a scale from one-to-ten, Rachel went with an optimistic nine, Quinn had ten, and Puck said seventeen. Tina was muttering quietly to Artie. Matt, Mike, and I were sitting silently. And that was basically how the remainder of dinner went. We got up to head for the terminal where we'd sleep. And on the way, I was, along with the rest of New Directions, thinking, "This is gonna be a long night."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorryx100000 for the inactivity! Family stuff over the weekend. :D

CHAPTER 3 (still Finn's POV)

The sleeping bags were given out, even thought it was only about nine. At first we only had five, but Mr. Schue managed to wrestle a sixth one out of the flight planner. Each sleeping bag would have to fit two.

Immediately, everyone looked at the person they wanted to share with. Rachel was looking at me, I guess because I was her boyfriend. It still feels weird to say that. Kurt was also staring me down, which was kind of creepy. I looked the other way, but out of the corner of my eye I saw him slump slightly and walk over toward Mercedes.

Mr. Schue detected our sleeping ideals. He rolled his eyes and announced, "Same gender, please. The last thing we need is another baby." With a pointed luck at Puck, he went to go soothe Ms. Pillsbury, who was freaked out at the prospect of sleeping on the floor.

We all went to stand by our, um, partners. The girls almost immediately paired up with each other. Santana and Brittany were together, obviously. Mercedes and Tina were also sharing. That left Rachel and Quinn, but they quickly decided to unzip the bag all the way and use it as a blanket in order to stay far away from each other.

The guys took longer.

"There's no way in hell I'm sleeping with any of you homos," Puck muttered. We all glanced quickly at Kurt, but he didn't seem to take offense.

"We'll just do what Rachel did and use them as blankets. That's not bad, right?" I suggested hopefully. The last thing I wanted to do was freeze the night before Regionals. (D-d-d-d-don't st-t-top... believing-g-g)

"Still. Who shares with who?" Kurt said, gazing in my direction. I pretended not to notice.

"I don't need one. I'll just sleep in my chair." Artie piped up, "So someone can have one to themselves."

"Call it!"

"C'mon, Puck, that's not fair!" I cried. I knew if Puck got it to himself then it'd be Matt and Mike, and me and Kurt. I was still recovering from when I moved in his house.

Sleeping next to him? No. Way.

"Life isn't fair," Puck smirked.

We spread out our sleeping bags in a line. Then we all just sat there, taking in the awkward silence. Eventually, Kurt sighed and went over to where the girls were giggling.

And suddenly, I felt a wave of jealousy wash over me. It's so unfair. The girls do this sort of thing all the time. They know exactly what to do. The last time any of us went to a sleepover, we were seven, and sleeping with guys wasn't weird at all.

Puck started to do what he does best: Talk about sex. Matt and Mike joined in. I didn't know anything aside from what Santana taught me, so I pulled out a novel and read. Artie, also not able to join Puck's conversation, saw my book and asked about whether or not he should read it. It wasn't much, but I went along with any social interaction I could find.

Suddenly, the lights went out. It was absolutely pitch black, all through the terminal. One of the girls screamed. Or maybe it was Kurt.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thanks to courixoxo for the party games idea~! And sorry the chapter is so short. :D

CHAPTER 4

It was absolutely pitch black, all through the terminal. One of the girls screamed. Or maybe it was Kurt. I don't really know.

We all jumped up in surprise. I could hear feet shuffling around on the airports cheap carpet trying to find a light. One of the airline workers pulled out an emergency flashlight, and scanned the area with it. "Is everyone alright?" he asked in a gruff voice. He obviously didn't want to be here. "No one is hurt?"

We grumbled that we were fine. He set the flashlight on the floor and went to find out the problem with the lights. The glee club gathered in a little circle around the flashlight. Mr. Schue was trying to get Ms. Pilsbury on a bus to a hotel. She was going to pay for the hotel out of her own pocket. We all knew Mr. Schue would help her "settle in", and we wouldn't see him for a while.

Everyone was quiet. Tina was shaking slightly and holding Artie's hand. Artie was blushing. Kurt sat on the other side of the wheel chair, looking miserable. Mercedes was sitting next to him, seeming to be on the verge of a diva tantrum. Rachel was looking dejected. Puck had an expression like he was ready to tackle someone. Quinn was glaring at nobody in particular. Santana and Brittany were exchanging glances with each other in some form of secret communication. Matt and Mike were grimacing.

After a few minutes, Mercedes voice cuts through the silence, "Alright, I am _done_ playing the silent game. Truth or dare?" She turned to Kurt.

"Truth."

"Hmmmmmm... Have you ever gone skinny-dipping?"

"Yes, if you count in my bathtub."

Ew. Bad images. Ewewew.

"Finn, truth or dare?" Kurt had turned around to me.

"Huh? Oh, uh, dare."

"Heh... Take off your shirt and wave it over your head."

The girls (and Kurt) all giggled. The guys just smirked. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. But you can't just stand up a dare, so I stripped off my shirt, and stood up. I swung it in the air once, then sat back down quickly. I threw it back over my head. Most everyone was laughing now. It wasn't that funny, was it?

Then I heard a small cough from behind me. The airlines man was glaring.

"I... ur... I mean..it was... dare?" My stuttered explanation brought more laughs from the group. The man just rolled his eyes.

"I came to tell you that there's no more flashlights, and that there's a storm downtown where we get our power. Knocked down some lines, or somethin," he groaned, " It's heading in this directi..." He was cut off as a bright light streaked through the terminal. Lightning. Shit.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Sorry again for the inactivityyyyyyyyy! And I'm going to be on vacation for the next week, so no updates. See you next Monday!

CHAPTER 5

Through the dim flashlight beam, we could all see Tina was about to faint. Artie leaned down and squeezed her shoulders. "What's up, Tee?" he said softly.

She sighed, shuddering, and spoke, "Before I moved here, my area had lots of storms. When I was eight..." She paused, and took a deep breath before continuing, "When I was eight, a hurricane came. My roof fell in. I was fine, aside from bruises. My mom broke her leg. And, so, I'm a little..." A thunderclap interrupted her. She shook and buried her head in Artie's leg. Her muffled voice came out from behind Artie's calf, "afraid of storms."

We all nodded sympathetically. Artie would take care of it. He leaned his head down and whispered something in Tina's ear. She nodded, and got into his lap. He gave the group a little wave, and went off to find a quiet spot where the thunder wasn't as prominent.

It was really silent for a long time. Then Rachel burst out in song. I have long suspected she was insane. _Da-da-da-da-da-da-da. _Kurt joined in, followed by Mercedes. _Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-dun! _Soon all of us were singing. We went through all our Nationals numbers, then got started on some random songs. We were singing Eleanor Rigby when Mr. Schue returned with Atrie and Tina. All three of them were blushing furiously. I can only guess what Mr. Schue walked in on. The storm had slowed to a tired drizzle. Mr. Schue cleared his throat, "Alright, guys, it's past midnight. Go to bed." Kurt smiled insanely. I was not looking forward to the rest of the night.


End file.
